


Swept

by fictorium



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7. Dressed/half-dressed.</p><p>Alicia retreats to her hotel suite at the victory party. She finds an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swept

“What are you doing here?”

“Eli called me.”

“Oh.”

Alicia enters the hotel suite properly, sliding the room key into the slot by the lights. Kalinda, for her part, stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed, some electronic device in her hand.

“Eli has you … what? Looking for bugs?” Alicia puts the pieces together. “Hidden cameras?”

“All of the above,” Kalinda admits. “But the room is clean. Apparently your campaign manager had them switch the room a couple of hours ago. He’s smart.”

“He is,” Alicia agrees, a little tipsy and high on adrenaline. Maybe her smiles gives away more than she means it to. “He’s also missing.”

“Yeah. Word is he got another gig.”

“Right. So, I haven’t seen you around in a while,” Alicia sighs. She crossed the room to the discreet minibar beneath the oversized television. “Been busy?”

Kalinda snorts. They both know the avoidance is by design, and has been for a long time now. Even in the same firm Alicia contrives to need Kalinda’s assistance only when she’s already out of the office, their unmended friendship safer by phone and frantic text message.

“Yeah. Mr. Bishop sends his regards. You might want to… I don’t know, exactly. But you have them.”

“That’s not…” Alicia pulls the Scotch out instead of the wine. “Kalinda, you can’t put me in that position. I thought we were, y’know, friends.”

“Did you?” Kalinda is openly mocking, her usual reserve cast aside. “Well, I’ll leave you to that Scotch.”

“Wait,” Alicia grabs her arm as she passes, the cool leather of Kalinda’s jacket achingly familiar despite how little they’ve ever touched. “Why did Eli think my room might be bugged?”

“He, uh… he implied you might be spending the night with someone other than your husband. So just in case, I guess.”

“That’s pretty rude of him,” Alicia concludes. Satisfied Kalinda isn’t bolting, she downs the tiny bottle of Glenlivet. “And rude of him to send you, considering.”

Kalinda sighs. Yeah, Alicia thinks. Not this again.

“Like I said, I should go.” Kalinda doesn’t move, though. She’s watching Alicia, and accepts a bottle of Grey Goose when it’s handed to her a moment later. “They don’t have tequila?”

“I can have someone bring tequila,” Alicia suggests. “You know, I had this fever dream about you the other day.”

“If you tell me, it won’t come true,” Kalinda sasses. “I don’t think you want anyone knowing I’m in your room with a bottle of tequila, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I have that reputation you’re so hung up on?” Kalinda moves around Alicia, takes the second mini-vodka herself without waiting to be offered.

“What, for fucking the State’s Attorney?” Alicia demands. “Or is it just Florricks that you go for?”

“Florrick singular,” Kalinda corrects, moving closer to Alicia then, backing her against the television unit in three steps. “Unless you’re offering?”

“You’d like me to, wouldn’t you?” Alicia surmises.

“You liked calling yourself State’s Attorney, didn’t you?” Kalinda deflects, and she’s good at it. “Did it turn you on?” She whispers, so close to Alicia’s own mouth despite their height difference. It’s those damn high-heeled boots, Alicia supposes.

“Yes,” Alicia murmurs. “And yes. Though as you can see … no husband. No someone other than my husband.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not your husband,” Kalinda speaks softly, so dangerous but softly. She kisses Alicia, and it’s not anything that can be misconstrued as friendly. God help her, or not God but… something. Wine, probably. Alicia grabs Kalinda’s shoulders and kisses her back. It’s open-mouthed and demanding, no prelude or tenderness, just need meeting need after too long simmering in grudges unspoken.

“This wasn’t how the dream went,” Alicia mutters into the kiss when they part for a second. “I didn’t even know you’d be here, I… I-”

“Quiet,” Kalinda commands, unzipping the asymmetrical zipper on Alicia’s blazer, letting it fall apart at its peplum waist. Alicia starts to respond in kind, grasping at the chain that holds Kalinda’s top together, but she’s diverted easily. It’s Alicia’s red skirt that’s hiked up over her hips (they have polling data that says the voters like her in red. It exudes confidence). She’s never been less confident in her life, but Kalinda’s hands are everywhere at once, drawing reactions from Alicia that she has little hope of controlling.

“I’m not…” Alicia tries to say. She doesn’t know what the end of that thought is. Gay? Bi? Interested? Because at least two of those are apparently not as true as she thought. ‘Going to stop you’ is probably the closest to accurate, because Kalinda’s blunt nails are scraping the edges of Alicia’s stockings (for Johnny’s benefit? Her own? Who the fuck even knows at this point?)

“Sure you’re not,” Kalinda teases, kissing Alicia’s neck and nipping at her earlobe. No earrings, barely any jewelery at all. Not on the night she’s appointed the scourge of Gotham’s criminals, Alicia muses, It wouldn’t do to be mugged for diamonds or pearls and become her own first case in office.

Damn. She really has had a few drinks too many.

But Kalinda is warm and insistent. Strong in that wiry way she has, that at 5 foot barely anything Alicia is confident Kalinda could incapacitate anyone who came at her. It’s a change from broad shoulders and muscles for display. From chest hair and poochy tummies where crunches gave way to steak dinners. Kalinda, even through her clothes, is a compact kind of strong. It’s how she’s able to wrap her hands around Alicia’s thighs and hoist her onto the media unit, trapping the television between her back and the wall.

“Oh,” is all Alicia has left when Kalinda kneels, pulling silk underwear aside without taking so much as a second to appreciate it. Alicia always thought it would be ponderously slow with a woman, all teasing touches and hesitation. Kalinda, she remembers, is not like just any woman. She’s exceptional, and she likes it that way. “Ohhh,” Alicia is repeating herself, but it’s the sensible response to Kalinda’s first bold stroke of her tongue over Alicia’s aching clit.

It’s not as though she’s desperate. Hell, she had … something just last night. But celebrating a win without this kind of reward felt empty earlier. The knowledge that there was no one to whisk her away and make her the belle of their own personal ball. Even Peter, last of the all-night schmoozers, had left within an hour of his arrival.

She can’t think about Peter right now. Can’t think about that idle daydream of what it would have been like if Peter had invited Kalinda into their bed, had offered to share as he never had. Will that change now that they’re finally on a more even footing, at least politically? Alicia isn’t sure, she’s gotten so used to the idea of never touching him again.

Kalinda, on the other hand, can’t seem to stop touching her. The combination of massaging Alicia’s inner thighs with the strong roll of Kalinda’s tongue is almost deadly. Alicia grips the edge of the furniture she’s sitting on and grumbles something that lands between a prayer and a curse. Apparently that’s Kalinda’s cue to slide one finger inside, crooking it devastatingly in counterpoint to her relentless tongue.

Alicia has known good sex. Hell, sometimes it’s been great and she cannot, must not think of Will right now, even though he would have had no problem with sharing. Maybe. He and Kalinda had a strange relationship that Alicia isn’t sure she ever understood. Maybe some things are sacred, but Alicia wouldn’t have been averse to being the object of both of their desires. Intense people have always had that effect on her.

There’s a knock at the door but Kalinda doesn’t freeze like Alicia does. As footsteps retreat, Kalinda abandons any last pretense of mercy and builds Alicia’s orgasm with unerring precision. If she could form words, Alicia might ask if practice has made her perfect, but instead she chokes back something between a sob and a scream.

“Good,” Kalinda says, pulling back and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It’s as flustered as Alicia has ever seen her, which is to say not much. “So I should-”

“Wait,” Alicia kisses her. She tastes herself on Kalinda’s mouth and who cares if it’s ego? She loves the taste of it. While they kiss, Kalinda still tensed for flight, Alicia’s fingers (still trembling, not reliable) tug at clips and pins until that dark hair is tumbling down, long and glossy and so beautiful. No wonder Kalinda keeps it pinned up and sedate. Freshly-kissed and with tousled long waves, Kalinda is breathtaking.

“You don’t have to,” Kalinda argues. “I didn’t expect you to. I know how it is with straight girls, Alicia.”

Alicia has missed hearing her name from that mouth, with that hint of an accent that she’s never gotten the whole, truthful story of.

“Turns out I’m less straight than before you kissed me.” Alicia knows what she’s doing, lowering her voice like this. She doesn’t want to be alone, more specifically she doesn’t want to be without Kalinda, and if this is her last night of misbehaving without public scrutiny, she intends to enjoy every minute.

“Didn’t even need that tequila,” Kalinda says with a smirk, letting Alicia being another kiss and finally relinquishing first her jacket and the black top with its fiddly gold chain. “Glad there are no hidden cameras, though.”

“Shut up,” Alicia growls, because her fingers have just encountered the black satin of Kalinda’s bra. “The bed’s right over there.”


End file.
